


Reluctance

by Gabbybob



Series: Dragonborn - Roland Frey [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabbybob/pseuds/Gabbybob
Summary: The Civil War has neared its end and Ulfric Stormcloak has taken the High Throne of Skyrim.  Roland Frey, prisoner of war and false Dragonborn of the Imperial army, has been given a chance to pardon his 'mistake'.  After being assaulted by a group of cultists, Milos the Argonian gives him a choice.  Help him defeat this Miraak that attacked them both, or be executed.Roland, keen on keeping himself breathing, takes the offer.





	Reluctance

Roland could smell the difference in the air three days out on the sea. There was some sort of ashy grittiness in the atmosphere that would probably remain there for the next several generations. It was his first time going to Morrowind, but everyone knew of the eruption of Red Mountain and the drastic effects its had, and Roland was surprised at how many still lived in the area. He wondered why some times but otherwise just assumed that they were all idiots.

“It’s there, Roland.” Milos the Argonian, or the DragonBorn of legend to some, pointed off the bow of the ship. “Solstheim.” He decides to humor the lizard and look out to where he was pointing.  
“Yea, you can see the ash from here.” The Argonian turns his eye to him, before looking back out at the sea.

“We’ll arrive at port in a few hours,” the captain says with apprehension. He wasn’t exactly willing to head back to the island when they arrived. The cultists who had attacked Milos and Roland had terrified the captain and his crew. Mainly because they couldn’t remember their trip to Skyrim. Roland didn’t really care. He was joining Milos because he’d get a free pardon from being executed for joining the Imperial Legion. The Stormcloaks that now inhabited Whiterun weren’t exactly a friendly bunch to prisoners of war, especially if they were a small part of the ‘face’ of the Imperial Army. Roland never liked the idea, but he apparently had given soldiers a moral boost when he was around. Although it didn't do much once the Dragonborn decided to join the fight.

Roland gives the captain a wave of his hand before he heads down below the deck. He had been cooped up for too long for his liking. Months in jail and now stuck on this boat. Waiting and watching the island materialize I front of him was going to drive him mad. He’ll find something to keep himself busy below.

He ducks as he walks through the low door hang, and stands straight, his head just clearing the ceiling. He wasn’t tall for a Breton but the ship itself was not made for comfort. It was a shipping vessel and only had a crew of three, from what Roland could tell. Most of the space that was there had been filled with crates and barrels. The crew had been reluctant enough to clear a small space in the corner for both of them. It was small, and even Milos had admitted that they were being stingy with the accommodations. Roland didn’t mind too much. It was a place he could store his armor and weapons. And it was out of the way to get away from people if he didn’t want to be bothered. Like now.

He grabs a lantern hanging nearby and carries it with him to the little niche. He’d pass the time cleaning his armor, it being the only thing he’s capable of doing at the moment. Roland puts the lantern on a box and finds another to sit on. He grabs a gauntlet and looks it over. It had been months since he had actually sat down to clean anything of his things, and they had been in need of cleaning since before he was incarcerated. As far as he could tell, the Dragonscales didn’t rust, but they did get a thick layer of scum between the plates, something that neither looked nor smelled great.

He lets out a groan, when he picks up one of his axes. They both were made of steel and had a touch of rust on them. If he hadn't know better, he would have assumed that an amateur owned them. They also needed sharpening and he doubted that the boat would have a grindstone anywhere on board.

He spends the remaining hours cleaning his armor first. Having effective weapons could wait until they found a blacksmith in Solstheim. He didn’t have any gold to pay them but maybe they’d let him use their equipment.

“Breton! We arrived!” Milos the scaly bastard called from above.

“I’m coming.” Roland slips on his partially clean armor, hooking his axe and mace on either side of his waist. There are footsteps and Milos, who was in his own set of heavy orcish armor, appears at the door, looking rather anxious for a lizard.

“Come, Breton. Solstheim awaits.” And he disappears back to the top. He takes his time as he follows Milos to the top.

They had already docked by the time he steps out and the first thing he sees, is the bay. Looking around, he sees a boardwalk with dark elf homesteads dotting the shoreline that lead out to the penninsula. At the end of that, sat a large stone. It reminded him a bit of the Standing stones back in Skyrim, but stood nearly twice as tall.  
A dark elf approaches Milos, mentioning something about the security of the island, Roland wasn’t listening and didn’t plan to, until he overhears Milos mention Miraak. Unlike the sailors who were terrified, the Dunmer seemed confused.

“Miraak? I… I can’t say. It sounds familiar.” Roland shakes his head. Selective memory loss and it was going to lead them to a dead end rather quick.  
“That slaver doesn’t know nothing, Milos," he replies and makes his way to get off the boat. "He's just fishing for septims.” The Elf lets out a huff, before standing I front of Roland, cutting him off from getting off the boat.

“I am not looking for septims, Breton. I am Adril Aranos, Second Councilor of Raven Rock, loyal servant to Councilor Morvayn.” Roland takes a few steps back, unprepared for the passive-aggressive assault from the Elf. He should have been expecting it, but it had been too long since he’s come across one that wasn’t swinging at him. “Your attempts at planting false accusations will not be tolerated. You are to remain aboard the Northern Maiden and you will return to Skyrim once the Captain has finished his business here.” Roland looks to Milos before shrugging.  
“Fine. Didn’t really want to come to here anyway.” Roland turns to head back down into the ship when something trips him and he falls to the ground.

“You stay.” Roland turns to the Argonian, ready to yell at him for tripping him with his tail. “Or you will go to the block.” The look Milos gives him makes Roland bite his tongue. That look and threat was probably the only two things that would have made him stop. Milos gives his tail a slight flick before turning his attention to Aranos. “Mr. Councilor Servant, I need him. He’s… my guard.” The Elf gives Roland a look of contempt.

“It’s Aranos.” The Elf looks back at Milos. “And I suppose it could be over looked this once. Any rumors float around about the House Redoran or any of its councilors, you’ll both be immediately brought to court and executed.” The Elf walks away, and Roland stands up, silently fuming. Get out of one noose only to get put in another.

“Mr. Counselor Servant, one more thing-”

“It’s Aranos.” He repeats with distain.

"You wouldn’t have a place we could start looking for Miraak?“ Aranos let’s out a sigh, as if he was already tired of dealing with the both of them. Roland wouldn’t blame him on that account. He was tired of Milos, too.

"Perhaps the Earth Stone is what you’re looking for?” He gives a brief motion with his arm to the other side of the bay. Roland follows the motion, and sees a tall stone he spotted earlier. Even though he couldn’t see that far, he could see figures moving around. Perhaps they’ll know who Miraak is. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”  
Milos and Roland step off the boat, winding their way through the crew that was unloading their boat. Roland wouldn’t understand why anyone would want to live here. It was all volcanic wasteland, if stories were to be believed.

Roland stops as they pass a blacksmith's forge, remembering that he needed to clean his weapons.  
“Come, Breton. Before you get us kicked off the island.” Roland starts walking once more.  
It won’t be my fault if we do.” Roland was going to be certain of that. He didn’t let his tongue get the better of him usually, and with Milos’ holding the final say of his judgement, he wasn’t going make another mistake.

When they approach the stone, Roland instantly felt uneasy. Magic eminated from it, unlike Standing Stones in Skyrim, and the air around it felt thick, like how the air got before it rains.  
The figures Roland had seen were people, and they appeared to be building a structure around the Stone. Although, it seemed like the people didn’t realize they were there. An Elf bumps into the both of them, oblivious. It almost seemed like they were sleepwalking. “Breton. These people are like zombies.”

“And they are.” Roland looks around and although he sees people around, no one was looking in their general direction. “No one here is in their correct state of mind. Except perhaps you two.” Another Dunmer standing to their right and dressed in mages robes turns around and approaches them. “You two don’t seem to be under any sort of influence from this stone.” The elf leans up close to Milos, his dark red eyes scrutinizing him. “Or is that why you’re here?"

"Breton and myself are here because if Miraak,” Milos replies. “He attacked us and we are looking for him.” The Dark Elf rubs his chin.  
“Miraak… I’ve heard that name before.” Roland lets out a groan. They were going nowhere fast. He looks at the stone and the structure that surrounded it, letting his curiosity getting the better of him.

“What are they making?” The elf looks at Roland, before turning towards the Earth Stone.  
“Intriguing, isn’t it? Although I myself don’t know what it is they’re building. The people here have been working on it for days.” Roland takes a few steps closer to look at it, the air becoming difficult to breath in. “Be careful. You don’t want to get too close to it.”

“Why not?” Milos had beat Roland to the question, but his attention was quickly grabbed by the stone. Was that whispering he heard? Or was it the sea?  
“Well, you don’t want to get too close because anyone who does get close tends to end up like one of them.” Roland turns to look at the elf, and sees him pointing to a nearby group. “Although I wouldn’t complain to see what it did to newcomers to the island.” Roland takes a few steps back.  
“Have you tried to stop them?” Roland asks, looking over at Milos and the unaffected Dark Elf.

“I don’t see why I should.” The Mage sounded almost offended at the suggestion. “Wouldn’t you want to see what it is once its finished? Or more importantly, what its function is?” Roland looks at the stone again. Typical Dunmer, putting others under risk while he sees what else he can profit from. Roland didn’t want to know what it did but if it was what was controlling the elves around Raven Rock, it would be a lot worse once it was finished. He hears Milos let out a small sigh that sounded almost like an irritated hiss.

“Do you know more about this Miraak?” The Elf takes a moment of silence. Roland hears the whispering get louder, but he instead listens to the elf to drown it out.  
“Yes, but none of it makes sense, really. He had died thousands of years ago.” Roland takes a step back to look up at the tip of the stone as the Mage and Milos continued talking; curious as to how they got the top of the structure to meet almost seamlessly together. “So I don’t know how he would be around now." There was another pause and the whispering was louder then it had been before.

"If you want more information, I think you should head to his Temple. In the center of the island.” At the mention of the temple, Roland a sense of dread sends a shiver down his back. It was a lead, but he felt that it was a bad idea. He turns around to suggest to Milos that perhaps they should spend a day at Raven Rock before heading out.  
Unneasiness causes Roland to waver a moment and exhaustion settles into his body. His hands and arms started to ache and his legs give out under his feet. When he opens his eyes, he sees a hammer and chisel in his hands. “What’s going on?”

“Roland!" hears someone call out. "Get up! We need to move!” Milos puts his arm around Roland and attempts to lift and carry him away. Roland tries his best to help, but he didn’t quite have control of his limbs.

“Lazy Breton. Get up!” Milos hisses at him. He lays him against a rock, and puts his weapons into his hands. “We need to fight!” Roland responds wih a groan. He couldn't move let a lone fight. He was just so tired.

Milos' hand lights up with magic, and he places it on Roland's chest. The exhaustion melts out of him as he is filled with a fire, a feeling that he could take on anything.  
A roar has Roland on his feet. The thought of 'Troll’ runs through his head. He'd stop it. No troll wasn’t going to get the best of him this time. After a few seconds, he realize that there was no troll, but instead an entirely different creature.

“What in Zenithar’s name is that?” The creature stood twice the size of himself, and looked like something out of a nightmare. Any courage Roland had fled him and he takes a few steps back.  
“Kill it, Breton!” He turns to Milos who had his bow out, and was quickly notching arrows and releasing them. Fear made him hesitate. The thing was so much bigger then he was, there was no way they could get it down, let alone kill it.

Roland shakes his head, before regaining the confidence to approach it, axes raised. He had thought the same things about the troll and about a dragon. Nothing could stand forever.  
"We got this," he mutters under his breath.

He approaches the creature, only now aware of other fighters, guards and residents of Raven Rock. He looks for an opening without harming the others.  
It lifts its foot, and brings it down, taking down taking down one of the elves in the strange yellow armor. He leaps forward to swing at it while it was recovering and he leaps back. He didn't seem to do much damage, his dull axes acting more as maces. Roland wasn’t exactly sure how he’d hurt this thing.

“Mid Vur Shaan!” Roland’s mace and axe felt weightless in his hands. The words echo in his ears, typical for being positioned on the receiving end of a Shout. The creature let out another roar, before stomping down. He takes the chance, leaping forward. Swinging his weapons effortlessly, thanks to Milos’ dragon shout. Roland jumps back as it takes a swing at him, knowing that it was pretty obvious he hadn’t done much to it.

“Have something with more bite, DragonBorn?” Roland calls out.  
“Sure, yes.” He fires another set of arrows, and Roland avoids a wide swipe of the creatures claws. “But Dunmer are in the way! Or would you rather I hurt them too?” He lets out a yell of frustration. He didn’t want that and he was sure no one was going to listen to them to get out of the way. What ever spell that Milos had cast on him earlier was already starting to wear thin. This fight was going to be difficult.

Roland repeats his strategy, wait for an opening and attack. A few more of the fighters die, either by being too slow, or reacting too soon and getting caught in the creature’s blows. Those still alive, had adapted to Roland’s strategy. Which was good, because Roland himself was starting to slow down. His axes becoming almost too heavy to wield properly. Roland takes several steps back as he struggles to remain standing.

“Krii Lun Aus!” A visible, purple aura streaks towards the creature. It lets out a roar as violet lines crisscrossed its skin. People keep attacking as it starts to bleed a dark substance.  
He hears more whispering, but its much quieter then before, a whisper of whispers. He tries to listen, but they fade away as the creature falls to the ground. Milos races up to him.  
"Breton? Are you alright?" he asks. MIlos grabs the sides of his head. "You look ill."  
“I’m fine.” He tries to pull his face from the Argonian’s grip, but only manages to drop his weapons. "I'm-"

~~~

 _~Here in my Temple, here in my shrine, in which you forgotten.~_  
Roland was staring at the Earth Stone, hammer and chisel in hand. It had the green aura magical aura surrounding it.  
“Here do we toil, that we might remember.” That was his voice, but it sounded distant, and dull. Almost like he was talking when tired.  
He brings up the hammer and chisel up against the stone, giving it a few good hits before it cracks. It quickly spiderwebs along its surface. He watches it as it reached the top, but it doesn’t crumble. Instead, it bleeds a thick black substance.  
_~Here you regain, what faithless minds have stolen. Far from yourself, I grow ever nearer to you.~_  
Roland stares at it, before he takes a step back and drops his hammer and chisel. The rock wasn’t bleeding, something from inside of it was trying to escape. A hand breaks through the stone, grabbing his face. He tries to pull himself away as its touch quickly gets painful. He's unable to scream as the sunstance glues his mouth shut. A human skull, followed by another hand emerges from the stone.

~~~

Roland awakes with a jump start. The place where he woke up was not familiar, but he could still smell the ash of Solstheim. His body ached but he wasn’t exhausted like he had been.  
“So, he awakes.” Roland looks across the small room, realizing that it was more of a large hut then an actual house. Milos was laying up against a small table, his back to Roland, but there was also a Dark Elf Mage sitting at the table with him, the same Mage he had seen earlier. The Dark Elf stands up and walks over to him.

“Where am I?” Roland asks, his voice sounding a hoarse.  
“You’re still in Raven Rock. Your Argonian friend didn’t want to move you too far. Not in the condition you were in, anyway.” The elf touches his face, and then his neck. Roland swats the elf's hand away, the dream still making him nervous. “Your fever has passed, and your pulse has slowed. You are lucky, Breton.” Roland tries to sit up, but the elf keeps him down. “Stay down. You’ve had some sort of unique reaction of being under the influence of the Stone.” Roland looks up at him, still trying to fight to sit up, the pain still bearable.

“What do you mean?” The Dunmer gives him a look, almost like he was explaining something that caught his interest to someone he disliked.  
“Do you remember the fight with that beast-” Roland gives a small nod. "Well, after it was defeated, you started to have seizures.” Roland manages to sit up, the elf seemingly giving up on trying to keep him down and the elf sits down himself. “Anyone else who’s under the influence of the stone hasn’t had that same sort of reaction to it, that I know of.” He grabs his chin as he goes quiet. “Perhaps it’s an effect that the others have yet to under go.”

Roland looks over at Milos, who had yet to move from his spot on the table. “At any rate, you were the first to have it happen. And I would like to know why.”  
“No.” Roland wasn’t going to become this elf’s test subject because he wanted to know what made him tick.  
“I wasn’t asking. Now, I’ll ask you a few questions and you will answer them.” The elf straightens in his chair. “What do you remember before waking up in the bed?” He thinks about the dream, taking a moment to ponder telling the elf.

“The fight with that thing,” he says, more confirming to himself rather then answering the Dunmer. The elf lets out a 'hmm’, but doesn’t make a comment on it.  
“And anything before that?” The question seemed simple enough but trying to remember turned into a rather difficult endeavor. He was finding it difficult to remember much of anything that had happened.

“Me and him arrived at the docks.” He motions his arm towards Milos, who was still not moving. “There was a Dunmer who thought he could keep me off the island. And then the stone.”  
“Anything else? Any details you’re keeping from me?" Roland was starting to get irritated by the elf.  
"I went and had a lay.”

There was a faint hiss and Milos barely moved his head. “You did not. We headed to Stone once we were on land.” He sits up, and stretches, opening his mouth wide in a yawn. Roland stares a bit in awe. He didn’t see that often enough and thought it was pretty impressive. “Then he touched it.”  
“Yes, Argonian. I was there,” the elf replied. Roland looks at the elf, and remembers some of it.

“I didn’t touch the stone," Roland replies but is promptly ignored.  
The mage lets out a sigh and stands. “I suppose it’s too unique. It could be just you.” The way the elf said it, mad Roland angry at him. He stands up to confront the elf, when he feels light headed and collapses back on he bed. “You still need your rest before we head out tomorrow.” The elf leaves their company, but Roland was far from relaxing.  
“We’re not taking him with us.” Milos’ face was always a bit flat, he had never been able to read the Argonian face very well, but Roland was sure that he didn’t quite agree with it as well.

“Neloth is needed. He-” Roland cuts him off, getting more frustrated at the situation he was in.  
“I can take care of my self! I won’t run off during the night because you were sleeping.” The small argument was already taking a toll on him and he was starting to get tired. “Just because I’m an Imperial Soldier, doesn’t mean I don’t have honor.” Milos stares at him, blinking slowly.

“He knows where the next Black Book is.” Black book? Milos hadn’t mentioned anything about needing any book before they arrived.  
“Great. Here a few hours and you’re convinced that we need he help of a Dunmer.” He lays down on the cot. Resting did seem like a good idea right now, but he wasn’t about to give up about taking the Elf with them. “I don’t care about this book. I just want to take care of Miraak and head back to Skyrim.” Roland didn’t care why he attacked them, he just wanted to point out that it was a bad idea to do that. Once finished he’d go back to what he did before the war. Back to more adventures and trading. That way, all he needed to care about was bandits, and scammers.

“Roland.” Roland hasn’t realized he closed his eyes and he opens them again, and looks at Milos. “How long do you think you’ve been at Raven Rock?” He closes his eyes again.  
“Don’t care.”  
“Humor me.” Roland lets out a sigh, and answers without moving much. He doesn't answer right away.  
“Sixteen hours. Can I go to sleep now?” Roland curiously opens his left eye to look over at Milos when he doesn't answer. His back was facing him. He was curious as to what he meant, but he’d ask in the morning.

_~Once your eyes were blinded, now through me do you see. Once your hands were idle, now through them do I speak.~_

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from Tumblr. It has been edited because some of it was just, not good.


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